Love Stinks, Actually!
by Artemis Leaena
Summary: O/S - Countdown to Valentine's Day 2013: Edward needs everything to go perfectly tonight, or he's afraid he won't get the answer he wants. When nothing seems to go right for him, can a couple cupids help him save the day ... and his big night? Rated M for language, sex, & "helpful" Doctor/Grandpas.


**Disclaimer: **The Twilight Saga & all associated characters are the copyrighted creation & property of Stephenie Meyer. Any other publicly recognized characters, brands, quotes or "catch phrases" are the sole trademarked &/or copyrighted property of their respective creators. No copyright or trademark infringement is purposely intended with this story. The plot & any original characters of this story are the property of Artemis Leaena. This work may not be reposted, reproduced, or translated without the permission of the author.

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**Love Stinks, Actually!**

**EPOV**

The unseasonably warm, but still quite chilly February air stung my body and face, and the wind whipped through my hair, blowing the damp locks into a riotous mess. A shiver ran down my spine as I stepped out onto my twentieth floor balcony, closing the sliding glass door most of the way behind me to block the offensive odor filling the room beyond.

Even after blowing out some of the nearly hundred candles spaced around the living room, breathing inside the apartment had become nearly impossible, and I'd needed to beat a hasty retreat to somewhere with untainted oxygen. This was why I was standing outside in nothing but a towel, freezing my junk off, and speed dialing the source of the evil that had taken over my domicile.

I hitched my towel a bit higher – like it was going to do much good – when a particularly frosty breeze crested the railing and battered me while I waited for the other line to pick up. I probably should've taken the time to at least throw a robe and slippers on, but I'd been in a rush to escape the noxious cloud hovering in my house. After three rings, I heard the click of the call connecting and a deceptively sweet, feminine voice greeted me.

"Davenport-Hale resi–"

"My apartment smells like a fucking whorehouse, and just so we're clear, I blame you," I cut her off with a snarl before she could finish.

"Is that you, Edward?" Then with a bit of heat, she added, "And how the hell is it my fault that your house stinks?"

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I took several deep, cleansing, calming breaths, trying to remember that her confusion stemmed from the fact that I never spoke to her in such a snippy way. Well, not since our divorce had been finalized, at any rate. Toward the end of our joke of a marriage, we'd fought viciously, but once we'd made the decision to split, we'd instantly gone back to being the best friends we'd once been.

"Yes, Jane, it's me." I gritted out between clenched teeth, taking some of the bite out of my tone. "And it's your fault because it was _your_ idea to fill my house with smelly ass candles for tonight."

"Smelly?" Jane had gone back to sounding completely bewildered. "But tea lights don't smell, Ed."

Not for the first time since our conversation that afternoon about how I could make tonight more romantic, I got a niggling sense that I was missing something. I didn't deal well with feeling inadequate. It made me cagey, and I lashed out in angry petulance.

"They didn't have fucking tea scented candles, Jane, so I had to grab a bunch of different ones."

"Tea …" she chuckled "… scented …" the chuckling turned into snorting guffaws "… candles?" Full-on gasping, hysterical laughter rolled through the ear piece, grating on my nerves, but it was distant, as if the phone had fallen or she was holding it away from her mouth.

"Baby? Who's on the phone?"

"It's Edward, Rosalie! I need help," I shouted – probably louder than was absolutely necessary – so that the owner of the gentler, kinder voice that had drifted through to me would be able to hear my pleas over the chortles of my demonic ex-wife. There was a shuffling noise, and Jane's obnoxious giggles grew fainter before the new voice filled my ear.

"Hello?"

"Oh, thank God, someone rational. It's Edward, Rose." I had never been so relieved to talk to her in the eight years we'd known each other.

"Oh, hi, Edward," she practically chirped now that she knew who was on the line. "Were you calling to talk to Bethany?"

I always wanted to talk to my little girl, but time was somewhat of the essence. "Not really, Rose, I–"

Rosalie's exasperated huff interrupted my explanation. "Hold on, Ed. I can barely hear you over the hyena." Her voice was instantly muffled, her hand no doubt only loosely cupping the mouth piece because I could still hear her. "Janie, honey, don't you think that's quite enough?"

"But he …" _gasp_ "… tea lights …" _snorting chuckle_ "… stinky whorehouse."

Thus ended Jane's coherency – such as it was – and she fell into another fit of giggles, politely excusing herself from the conversation at large. Alright, so what she actually said was that I was a dumbass and she needed to go before she peed her pants from laughing. I could've kissed Rose when she snapped at Jane to go to the bathroom. I failed to see the humor in any of this – except Jane peeing her pants … that would be funny.

"I'm sorry about that." Rose's apologetic voice, though normal and even in volume, was loud and grating after the muted exchange of moments before. "So, since Chuckles the Clown is out of commission, are you gonna tell me what's going on, or should I just assume my wife's finally lost her damn mind?"

As witty and humorous as Rose was, I didn't have time to banter with her about Jane's sanity or lack thereof. Pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration, I launched into my little tale of woe.

"So you know I'm proposing to Bella tonight, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, I wanted to make it special, romantic, a night she'd never forget."

"So you asked _Jane_ for help?" Her incredulous laughter was irritating, but understandable. When we'd been married, Janie's idea of "setting the mood" had been to wear her non-holey sweats to bed and to shave her legs. Moments later, Rosalie's mirth had quieted into indistinct titters. "Sorry. Sorry. You were saying?"

"Anyway …" try as I might, there was no masking the aggravation in my tone "… I called Jane, and she suggested I fill the living room with tea candles like she'd seen on one of her soaps. So I went to the dollar store down the street, but they didn't have any tea scented candles, and I ended up grabbing several dozen different colors with various flower names. I figured a garden would smell better than tea anyway, but now my house smells like a whorehouse, Bella's gonna be here in a little over an hour, and I'm freezing my nuts off outside because I can't breathe inside."

She'd started with soft chuckles about midway through my spiel but was now braying like a fucking donkey at my predicament. What the fuck was with these women? I should've just asked Dwayne, the door man. He'd been charming Bella since she'd moved in with me around three years ago, and he probably would've known exactly what I needed to do and say tonight. But no, I'd stupidly turned to my ex-wife for advice on how to convince Bella to become my new wife.

"Every woman loves candles," Jane had said. "Candles make everything romantic," the tiny troll had gushed. "Fill your living room with candles, create some nice ambiance, then get down on one knee and propose. Don't just roll over in bed after sex and say 'that was great, baby, we should get married' like you did with me," Janie had declared.

"Focus, Rosalie," I barked. "How can I propose to Bella if my house smells like–"

"A pre-teen girls' locker room?" Another round of throaty chuckles assaulted me, but at least she was able to speak through them this time. "Alright, alright, simmer down there, Mr. Grumpy Butt. Tell me you at least blew your flaming garden out."

Rose couldn't see me, but I was certain that if she could, she would've bust a gut at my sheepish manner, complete with a fiery, full-faced blush. "Um …" I hedged.

"Oh, geez. We'll be there in about thirty to sort you out. In the meantime, blow out all those damn candles, leave your balcony door open to air the place out, & get some clothes on, you dumb shit, before you catch pneumonia and have to propose to Bella in the hospital."

"Thank you, Rose. You don't–"

The line went dead, cutting my relieved gratitude off mid-stream. Rather than get upset about being hung up on, I ended the call on my end, fist pumping the air as I did so, and ran back inside to follow Rosalie's orders. In much less time than it had taken me to light them all, the rest of the malodorous hunks of wax were extinguished, their pungent smoke wafting out of the door I left open and the windows that I'd lifted a crack.

Within twenty minutes, the room was reasonably clear of the fragrant smog that had invaded, and I was dressed for my date with Bella. Even with the sliding glass door and all the windows closed, it was still cold, so I wrapped myself in the afghan Nana Cullen had knitted for Jane's – understandably, Jane felt I should keep it when we divorced – and my first wedding anniversary and set about starting a fire to chase the chill away.

"Bethany Nadine Cullen, don't you _dare_ barge in that door," drifted angrily through the thick wooden portal mere seconds before it burst open, smashing into the wall behind it as my own personal sunshine lit up the room.

"Daddy, Mom and I are here to save you!"

"Young lady, if you put another hole in your father's wall, you can kiss your television time goodbye for the rest of the week." Rosalie gritted out as she stomped into the room, hot on Beth's heels and under the collar, and slammed the door. Her eyes immediately flicked to the ugly gray stopper I'd installed after Beth's last overly exuberant entry left a crater in the drywall and then to me, and a perfectly sculpted raven brow arched in silent question.

I chuckled and shrugged, opening my arms in invitation to my baby girl. "Come give me a hug, Sugar Plum."

Coppery curls streaked out behind the hyperactive six-year-old as she flew across the room, jumping up and launching herself at me at the last minute. Fortunately, this was our regular routine, and I knew to brace myself for impact as I caught her around the waist and swung her around before hugging her close, nuzzling my nose into her hair. I was luckier than a lot of divorced dads; I got to have my angel every other weekend and holiday, half of the summer, and generally anytime I wanted her – provided I gave Jane and Rose plenty of advance notice – but it was never enough.

Hefting Beth over onto my hip, I noticed that Rose had placed a couple of plastic sacs on the ottoman and was gathering up the melted remains of my fuck-up, tossing them into a small trash bag. She was tsking and muttering about ruining perfectly good dishes whenever she couldn't pry the candles off the saucers I'd used to hold them. It was hilarious as fuck … until about the fifth little plate that she couldn't get the candles off of got tossed into her bag with enough force to break it. Her grumblings were starting turning into growls, and at that point, I decided it was time for Bethany to go play in her room for a little while.

Avoiding direct eye contact, I started tentatively poking through the bags she'd deposited a few minutes ago. "So … uh … where's Jane?"

The sacs were ripped from my hands – when the fuck did she cross the room? – and tossed onto the sofa in a clear statement of "keep your hands off." Backing away, I raised my hands in surrender and then stuffed them in my pockets.

Standing at just an inch shy of my six-foot-two height, Rose was a veritable Amazon – I guess Janie liked 'em tall – and she was scary as fuck when she wanted to be. With her short, spiky, soot-black hair, pale skin, and vivid violet eyes, Rosie either inspired lust in people or stark terror. If you were family, she loved you, and you had nothing to fear from her. But she'd just as soon kill you as to look at you if she thought you were a danger to her loved ones.

"At home resting, numb-nuts. She's eight-and-a-half-months pregnant, remember?" Rose snarled. Having stolen the bags of loot from me, she resumed her vengeful purging of the tiny stink bombs. "Where in the fuck did you say you got these again?"

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now I was embarrassed. "That everything-for-a-dollar store down the street," I mumbled sheepishly. "I got them for a quarter each."

She half growled, half screeched as she threw the last of the little bastards into her bag and tied it off. "Well, no fucking wonder it smells like a damn mulch pit in here. Did you air the place out?"

"Why do you think it's so damn cold in here, Rose?"

I was saved from any further invectives by a knock at the door. Leaving Rose to her clean-up and tantrum, I directed the caterers where to set up the food. There were only two things I could cook with any success: boxed macaroni-and-cheese and frozen dinners. I wasn't about to serve either to the woman I loved on the night I proposed to her, so I'd gone behind her back and hired her company to prepare our meal tonight. After tipping the two men and showing them the door, I left a still complaining Rosalie in the living room and went to go check on Bethany.

The sweet voice of my baby girl floated through the barrier to her room as I approached, and I took a moment to lean my forehead against the white surface of it. My child was tone deaf and lacked any sense of rhythm – just like her mother – but I could stand there forever listening to her sing her latest obsession: Wizard of Oz tunes. Grudgingly, I pushed away from the door and knocked once before slowly pushing the door open.

Bethany was sitting in the middle of her bed, brushing the hair of one of her dollies. If I could have framed this moment, with her surrounded by the fluttering blue curtains of her canopy bed and a mountain of stuffed animals, so that I could remember it with perfect clarity when she became a screaming teenager, I would. Her sapphire eyes – another inheritance from Jane – followed me as I walked over and sat down on the edge of her bed and her smile nearly blinded me. I was going to have to learn to shoot before she started dating, I could already see it.

"Hi, Daddy. Is it time for me to do my part to help?"

Her precocious laughter was contagious, and I couldn't help but join her. "I don't know, baby, but I don't think Rose is ready for either of us."

She nodded, accepting my word as gospel – how much longer did I have with that one? – and went back to playing with the doll in her lap. Almost immediately, her little brow furrowed, her bottom lip disappeared behind her top teeth. It was a habit she'd picked up from Bella, and I found it just as adorable on my daughter as I did on Bella – just in a far more innocent way.

"What's on your mind, honey?"

For several moments, she continued to chew on her lip, and I was afraid she wasn't going to answer when she lifted her head, midnight pools swirling with doubt and a little sadness. "After you and Bella get married, what will I call her?"

Pain shot down my spine as it struck the wrought iron post behind me. When I'd first started thinking of asking Bella to marry me, I'd sat down with Bethany and talked to her about it. I wanted her to understand that I loved her with my entire soul, and nothing about our relationship would change after Bella became my wife. It had never occurred to me, however, to talk to my daughter about her and Bella's connection. I knew in my heart that Bella loved Beth, so in my mind, there was no need to discuss it.

"It's just that …" Bethany took a deep, trembling breath and averted her eyes, her tiny fingers fiddling with the lace edge of her doll's gown "… I call Mommy 'Mommy' because I lived in her tummy for a while like Jeremiah does now. I call Mom 'Mom' because she loves me, and takes care of me, and she's Mommy's wife. Lots of my friends at school have two mommies or two daddies. Tabitha Archer's two daddies are even married like Mommy and Mom are." Her wide, expressive gaze snapped up to mine. "But none of my friends have three mommies. So what will I call Bella when she's your wife?"

"Come here, baby," I beckoned, cradling her in my arms as she climbed up in my lap. I kissed her forehead and rested my cheek against her crown of curls, rocking us slightly back and forth as she cuddled up to me. "What do you want to call her?"

"I don't know."

"Bethany Nadine," I coaxed in a teasing, sing-song voice in response to her reluctant whisper, earning me the giggle I had been after.

"Yes, Daddy?"

"Do you know what _Bella_ would want you to call her?"

"No," she mumbled.

On more occasions than I could count, I'd caught Bella looking at Bethany with a wistful, dreamy gleam in her eye. She didn't think I knew, that it had escaped my notice, but I'd also witnessed the sadness that stole over Bella's beautiful features whenever Bethany called Rose "Mom," and how Bella seemed lost for the first few hours after we'd had Bethany over for an extended period. I knew Bella wanted to be a mother, she loved Bethany like a daughter, and I knew with utmost certainty that my next words were God's own truth.

"Bella would be happy with whatever you wanted to call her, but she would love for you to call her Mom."

Bethany wrenched herself away from me, her eyes bright and tone breathless and excited. "Really?" Just as quickly as the delight had set her aglow, Bethany's brow wrinkled up in worry, and her mouth turned down in a frown. "But what about when she has her own baby? Will she still want to be my mom then?"

"Honey, Bella loves you very much. That will never change."

"But what about–"

"Bethany, does Rose love you any less because Mommy's going to have Jeremiah?" I challenged.

She scrunched her face up, her bottom lip being chewed to hell as she thought about my question. "Well, no, but Jeremiah's like me, she didn't put him in Mommy's tummy like you'll put a baby in Bella's. Mommy had to go to a special doctor to get him."

If my skull didn't crack open when I dropped my head back against the iron bar I rested against, I'd be seriously surprised. Thank you, God, for giving me such a logical child. And thank you, Grandpa/Doctor Carlisle, for explaining to said child about artificial versus natural insemination – even if it wasn't a graphic or technical conversation. I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath, making a mental note to smack my father the next time I saw him, and dove back into her oceanic depths.

"That's true, but do you think that matters to Rose? Jeremiah is her son just as much as he is Mommy's."

"I guess." She was still frowning, but it seemed to be more in consideration of my words than true consternation.

"And do you think Rose will love Jeremiah more than you?" My heart hurt to ask that, even though I knew there wasn't a chance in Hell of it being remotely possible.

"No," she whispered, her gaze disappearing from my sight again.

"No matter how many babies Daddy puts in Bella's belly, Bethy, she will always love you just as much as she does now. Probably even more when she sees what an awesome big sister you're going to be." Both Bethany and I turned at the sound of Rosalie's cheerful voice and found her leaning with her shoulder against the door frame. "Now, where's my special helper? We've got a scene to set up that even your unromantic Daddy can't mess up."

Bethany giggled and jumped off my lap and raced from the room squealing her head off about saving me from myself. I stood up off the bed a bit slower, but moved to follow my guardian proposal angel.

"Ya know, Jane liked my proposal just fine at the time," I couldn't help but snark with a satisfied smirk as I passed Rose.

"Yeah …" she called after my retreating back "… but that's only because she hadn't met me yet."

I wanted to laugh at her for that remark, but deep inside, I knew it was true. Instead I flipped my middle finger up at her behind my back – much to her amusement – and continued down the hall to the living room. Rosalie's hearty laughter followed me the entire length of the corridor and was still reverberating in my ears when I came to a dead stop, frozen in awe and fascination, on the threshold to the main room.

When I'd left, the space had been illuminated by the harsh lighting of the seventy-five-watt bulbs in the table lamps. In place of their glaring light several randomly placed clusters of small, round, silver tin candles arranged on decorative paper plates illuminated the room in their soft, subtle glow. The flickering flames cast every surface in a riot of dancing light and shadow, and where the candle's and the fire's warmth didn't shine, a multitude of pinkish-red twinkling lights strung haphazardly about the area added their own touches of color.

The chenille throw that was usually draped over the back of the loveseat was spread out on the floor where my recliner previously sat – that monstrosity having been pushed back against the glass door – and a mountain of pillows piled to one side. A bucket of ice sat on the coffee table with a bottle of uncorked wine partially submerged in the frozen squares. The soothing, dulcet tones of Dean Martin echoed through the room in decadent waves. And standing in front of the fireplace, surrounded by a circle of dark red petals, stood my angel, grinning like a loon and waving her arms about to showcase the metamorphosis the room had undergone.

"And _this_ is how you do romance, Cullen," Rosalie gloated as she brushed past me.

She crossed the room and went to stand by Bethany, leaning down and whispering something in the little girl's ear that made Bethany's shiny bronze curls bounce and sway as she giggled uncontrollably. Several seconds later, after I'd lost count of how many furtive glances they'd both thrown my way as they conspired, Rose moved away and started gathering up the plastic bags that must have held all of these supplies. While Rosie cleaned, Bethany called me over to her, and the closer I got to her, the more I saw that it wasn't a circle of petals, but a heart that had been laid out on the glossy wooden floor.

Taking my hand in hers, Bethany led me over to the blanket. "This is where you need to serve Bella dinner, Daddy. Girls can't resist picnics." Her little head bobbed in a sage nod, but I wisely bit back the bark of laughter that wanted to escape. She was just too precious as we sidled up to the low table. "And here's the wine you need to serve Bella. I don't know why, but Mom said you needed it." She paused her Vanna White routine to look up at me, seriousness written in her every feature. "Just remember what the TV says, Daddy, and don't drive after you drink, okay?"

I nodded and promised that neither Bella nor I would go anywhere near our cars after we had our wine. This seemed to satisfy her – and amuse Rose on the other side of the room – so we traveled back over to the floral heart. Bethany dropped my hand and crossed her skinny arms over her chest, that same dour, almost scolding look taking up residence in her features again.

"Now this is very important, Daddy, so pay attention, okay?"

I mimicked her severe stance, and cocked an eyebrow at her in silent challenge of the tone she'd chosen to use with me. She was the cutest child on the planet, but I was still her father, and I wouldn't tolerate disrespect or sass no matter the situation.

Reading my message loud and clear, she ducked her head and regarded me through her eyelashes. "Sorry, Daddy," she murmured in contrition. At my nod of acceptance and the lowering of my dad brow, a sheepish smile curled her lips upward slightly, and her face lit with mischief. "As I was saying, this part is very important. This is where you need to get down on one knee and beg Bella to stay with you forever."

There was no containing my amusement this time, and I found myself bent over with the intensity of it, my chortles doing nothing to drown out the cackles and snorts drifting from Rosalie on the other side of the room. Tears were still streaming down my face when I'd calmed myself enough to speak again, but I was still chuckling. "What makes you think I'll have to beg Bella? Can't I just ask her?"

Guileless cobalt orbs stared back at me, genuine curiosity at what the adults found so funny etched in the lines of her forehead. "I don't know. Mom just said it would be a miracle if–"

"Time to go, Bethany," Rosalie practically jumped across the room, Beth's jacket in hand, as she rushed to stop the child's flow of speech. "Mommy's waiting on us to bring pizza home for supper, and Daddy needs to finish setting up his and Bella's dinner."

She wasn't fooling me with the bright smile she plastered on her maroon lips. We'd be coming back to this topic but not tonight. Rose was right, time was ticking away, and I still had some preparation to do before Bella got here. While I'd been lost in my mind thinking of how I'd torture Rosalie to find out what she'd said to Beth, she'd gotten the two of them into their jackets and was just finishing tying off Bethany's scarf. Once she was happy with the placement of the garment, she walked back over to me and pulled a magazine from her oversized purse which she slapped against my chest.

"Anything from pages fifteen through twenty-three will suffice as thanks for my help."

Out of reflex, my hand had come up to catch the book, and as she walked away, I glanced down and saw that it was a Tiffany and Company catalog. My head snapped back up and my confused gaze collided with her delighted, smirking expression.

"Uh … you want jewelry as a thank you for some candles, rose petals, and Christmas lights?"

Her responding snigger was deep, dark, and a touch evil. "Don't be ridiculous. The bottle of Merlot I took from your wine rack was in thanks for all of this." She smirked as she swept her hand out to encompass the room at large. "Pages fifteen through twenty-three is what you're going to give me out of gratitude for giving you a reason to _need_ all of this."

Understanding dawned in my sluggish brain, and I flashed my cockiest grin to irritate her. "But it was Jane who hired Bella to cater your wedding, so shouldn't I be buying something for _her_?"

Violet fire shot from Rose's eyes as she narrowed them in a death glare at me, and there was a definite snarl to her tone when she corrected my oversight. "But we wouldn't have needed a caterer if I hadn't proposed in the first place. So something from pages fifteen through twenty-three, thank you very much."

I was still laughing when the front door slammed shut behind the two retreating females. I'd never admit it to her face – because it would throw off the faux-enemy dynamic we both enjoyed playing with – but I genuinely loved Rosalie Hale, and I was damned glad that she felt the same way about me. Getting myself under control again, I set about finishing my tasks. Less than five minutes later, when I heard Bella's key scraping in the lock, everything was ready.

Knowing that deviating from Rose and Bethany's carefully scripted order of events was probably going to earn me more than one smack upside the head during the retelling of tonight's events, I moved over and got into position. Ever since Valentine's Day last week, when Bella had, no doubt, expected me to propose, she had been extremely tense – my secretive behavior in planning tonight probably didn't help. I probably could and should have done it then, but it all seemed so cliché and overdone. No, any preamble to the main event tonight was likely to do more harm than good. We needed to just get down to brass tacks. It was what Bella needed, and I was impatient enough to give it to her.

"Edward, was that–"

Chocolate kissed irises were swallowed in a sea of milky white when she looked up. Bella gasped in shock, her hands coming up to cover her mouth, the bags they'd previously held dropping unceremoniously to the floor. Her gaze swung around the room, from the candles and strung lights, to the food spread out on the blanket, finally settling on where I waited on bended knee, my outstretched hands holding an open box that displayed a two carat, marquis cut, perfectly clear diamond.

"Bella, four years ago, you captured my heart and soul when you spilled a tray of canapés on me at Jane and Rose's wedding. Not a day has gone by since then that I haven't felt honored and blessed to have you in my life, because you make me a better man."

The tears that had started to pool in her eyes when they'd landed on the ring spilled over and streamed down her face as she slowly moved closer to me.

"I don't know what the future holds, where we'll end up, or how many other foods I'll end up wearing …" she giggled and swiped heavily at the moisture on her cheeks as she came to a stop before me "… but I do know that I don't want to face any of it if you're not by my side." I reached up and captured her left hand in mine, still holding the ring out to her with my right. "Isabella Whitlock, I promise to be your personal food tester – wearing it or eating it – every day of forever if you'll agree to be my wife. Will you marry me?"

She was still trying desperately to stem the flow of tears rolling down her cheeks, but she was smiling so brightly that I knew they were tears of joy. Bella cleared her throat and flicked her gaze between the ring and my face a time or two before her grin turned mischievous. "Are you really proposing to me?"

I couldn't help but laugh and hang my head. "Well, if you have to _ask_, then I'm obviously not doing it right." Meeting her eyes once again, I affected a more serious tone. "But yes, I'm asking if you'd maybe wanna start calling yourself Bella Cullen. I mean, not that Whitlock's not a nice name and all, but I prefer Cullen."

Bella's head kept shaking from side to side, incredulity mixing heavily with excitement. "I can't believe … I thought after last week … this is real?"

"It's very real, sweetheart." I winked at her. "I'm proposing to you. Are you accepting?"

It was like a light flicked on and flooded her brain with understanding and acceptance. Her squealed "Yes" was barely formed before it was cut off as she launched herself at me. As her tongue invaded my mouth, licking, lapping, tasting of my own, I struggled to get the ring out of the box and on to her finger. Having accomplished that, I allowed my hands to begin exploring the warm body wrapping itself around mine and to revel in the elated relief filling me. Bella was going to be my wife, and I couldn't be happier about that.

While I'd been seeking to add to what Bella was wearing – that ring was never leaving her finger, if I had anything to say about it – she'd been busy trying to lighten my sartorial burden. Quicker than I could blink it seemed, she had my shirt untucked and unbuttoned, and she was making quick work of my belt buckle and pants fastenings. Now that I'd joined the divesting party, it took the two of us working together mere seconds to strip each other bare.

Pulling me down on top of her, Bella lay back on the soft blanket and continued lavishing my skin with hot, wet kisses all over my jaw, down my neck, and up to my ear before reclaiming my lips. Everything she gave me, I returned to her. Every nip, suck, kiss, and nibble. When we were both panting, sweating, writhing, and aching, I surrendered the rest of me, sliding deep into her depths and locking our bodies together the way our hearts and souls already were.

We rocked into each other, pressing, thrusting, and dancing in synchronized movements. Our bodies showed one another what our whispered words of love and devotion could never express. And when we reached our explosive peaks, our gazes locked and held our partner in an embrace arms could never rival. Sated, we collapsed to our sides, our arms and legs tangling as we caught our breaths and savored the moment.

A while later, the fancy dinner I'd had brought in and the bottle of wine were both long since forgotten, and Bella was snuggled up to my side as I lay on my back. One of her legs was draped across my hips, the heel of her foot sliding up and down the outside of my thigh, and her hand was drawing lazy patterns through the smattering of hair on my chest. We were content and at peace.

"Edward?"

"Yes, my love?" I picked her dainty hand up and started nipping at the pads of her fingers, causing her to erupt into girlish giggles, until I sucked one of her tips into my mouth. That earned me a moan that went straight to my semi-hard dick.

"Is this why you coerced Aunt Alice and Uncle Jasper into kidnapping me for the day?" she asked breathlessly.

I rolled over and shifted her beneath me, levering up on my elbows so as not to crush her with my weight. "I needed to create my love den so I could seduce you into agreeing to marry me."

Her uproarious laughter vibrated through every inch of my body that was connected to hers, and within moments I was no longer semi but fully hard. "And what part of this 'love den' …" she wiggled her arms in between us so that she had room to make the air quotes then settled her hands on my chest "… did Rose and Bethany contribute to?"

Leaning down, I kissed the smirk off her lips. "What makes you think your incredibly romantic fiancé didn't come up with this all on his own?"

"Because your idea of romance is to offer to sleep in the wet spot." She fell into another fit of jiggling laughter, the friction of our bodies rubbing together doing wonderful things below the waist. "There's just one thing that confuses me."

I buried my face in her neck, my body lowering to cover hers entirely, and my hips started grinding into hers, drawing gasps, mewls, and moans from her. "What's that, baby?" I murmured against her ear.

"Why does it …"

I hitched her leg up around my hip, the motion opening her up wider and allowing the tip of my cock to slide over her clit.

"Oh fuck, that feels good, but why …" she wrapped both her legs around my waist and shifted so that on my next pass, I slipped inside her "… so good," she panted. "But why …" her fingers dug into my shoulders, and her upward thrusts became more forceful as she took the lead and quickened our pace. "Why does it smell like a flower shop … shit, right there, baby … died in here?"

* * *

**A/N:**

Much love & appreciation for my goddess of a pre-reader, _**caz12771**_, who is my writing brain's right hand (even if she's usually just sitting in a corner of my brain, playing with her Rob pics lol). Also, more love & appreciation than I can express in mere words for the wonderful _**Tammygrrrl** _for her last minute (almost literally) beta job. She's never turned me away when I've come crying to her with minutes to spare, & she's just a beautiful soul! =D Thank you, ladies.

So what did y'all think?! Leave me some stinky love, & tell me all about it. And when you're done gushing about all the warm feels this story gave you, hop on over to www . twifanfictionrecs . com and vote for Cluelessward and Nine Days to Eternity where he's up for Top 10 Fave Completed Fics of Feb! =D Thanks.


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